Sasha's Story

Hi, my name is Sasha, I'm a slender, handsome guy with blue eyes, tanned skin, and hair as black as coal, though I think for a more accurate description, I should add that I'm perhaps too slender and handsome for a guy. Well, to fully describe the situation for the reader, I should also add that I'm not quite an ordinary young man today; I'm more of a girl than a guy. I wear women's clothing, I have a size 2 bust, and I work as a model for some publications (as a side job) while studying at university in the biochemistry department. Chemistry and biology were always my favorite subjects in school, and, most

importantly, I've been living with my beloved man for five months now.

But I want to tell you not about what's happening in my life today, but about the incredible changes and wonderful metamorphoses that happened to me in just about three years, which transformed me from an ordinary 18-year-old guy into the girl I am today.

Although, to be fair, it should be noted that I wasn't exactly an average teenage guy because even back then, I really liked dressing in women's clothes. I did it secretly, of course, and was terribly ashamed of it, even to myself. I told myself it was wrong, unnatural, but I couldn't help it. After a while, when I was home alone, I would still open my sister's closet and immerse myself in my magical world...

But to give you a complete picture of myself, I must, of course, tell you about my family and especially about my mom, the person who played a huge role in all the events that happened to me recently.

So, we were an ordinary, average family unit by Soviet standards. My parents met and got married while they were institute students, though they studied in different departments: my father in engineering and my mom in economics. After both graduated, their first child was born, namely my older sister Yulia, and with a four-year gap, I was born. After finishing his studies, my father immediately started working in his field, while my mom was on maternity leave with us and, well, basically raised me and Yulia. That's how our life went. I'll fast-forward to the important events, which was when I was about 18 years old. That year, two big events happened: my parents' divorce and Yulia's wedding. Well, the divorce was for a banal reason—my father simply met another woman, and since Yulia and I were already adults, there was no restraining factor. In short, my parents divorced, but it should be noted that my mom took the divorce quite easily; apparently, she herself wasn't satisfied with the family life she had with my father.

And the second important event, as I already mentioned, was Yulia's wedding.

After which she and Dima moved to Germany, where his entire family lived.

And so, mom and I were left living together, though I often called Yulia, and I also met with my father periodically—either I visited him or we just met for lunch, and of course, he helped me financially quite well.

And so, due to my build, women's clothes fit me much better than men's. As I already said, I had thin legs, narrow shoulders, but surprisingly rounded hips—I don't know, apparently, I took after my mom in figure.

I never got to the rest of the makeup that evening because my mom was supposed to return soon, and I still had to wash off the mascara and change back into my own clothes.

So, 10th grade was coming to an end. During the day, I went to school, and in the evening, I changed into my favorite clothes until my mom came home. By the way, I did well in school, and despite being considered a weakling for a guy, everyone in the class liked me—both guys and girls—because I have a great sense of humor and I'm a very sociable person.

But then one day, a turning point came in the established routine of my life. Returning from school and having lunch, I decided to do some cleaning. While putting away laundry in my mom's closet, I found in her lingerie section a very beautiful set: panties, a peignoir, stockings—apparently for a special occasion. I should say that I never wore my mom's clothes—firstly, they were a bit too big for me in size, and secondly, there was a psychological barrier—after all, they were my mom's things. But this time, I couldn't resist. I took it out, put on the panties and stockings—everything was so beautiful—then put on the peignoir and admired myself in the mirror, while being very aroused, so my dick was sticking out of the panties. And at that moment, I heard the key turning in the lock and my mom's voice—"Shurka, are you home?... Look what treats I brought..." At that moment, I thought I was going to have a heart attack. I just froze, and meanwhile, my mom entered the room and, seeing me with eyes wide with fear, trying to cover the lace panties with the peignoir's hem, from which my still erect but quickly wilting dick was sticking out, and then it was her turn to freeze. For about five seconds, my mom just silently looked at me without saying a word—though that time felt like an eternity to me—and then she, also in a daze, turned around and left the room...

I, meanwhile, ran to my room, where I sat until the evening, afraid to come out. I was scared and ashamed at the same time. I could hear my mom doing something in the kitchen. Later, she knocked and called me for dinner.

By that time, I had long since changed into a T-shirt and shorts. I gathered my courage, decided I couldn't sit there my whole life, and went out to the kitchen, where my mom was already sitting at the table. But seeing her, I just burst into tears, ran up to her, and buried my face in her chest. I was ashamed, and sobbing, I asked for her forgiveness.

She ran her hand through my hair, slowly tousling it, and said—"You shouldn't apologize..." Then she lifted my head, wiped the tears from my eyes, and looking me straight in the eyes, said—"Shurka, what I saw today certainly shocked me, but I want you to know that I love and accept you for who you are. I am your mother, after all, and if you really like being a girl, then I'm ready to accept that, especially since Yulia always envied your legs." Patting me on the cheek, she smiled.

We talked that night until almost morning. I told her everything—that I've been dressing in women's clothes for a long time, that I feel much more comfortable as a girl than as a guy—in short, I explained that this is serious for me.

After that conversation, it was as if a weight had been lifted from my shoulders. That night, my mom and I cried and talked so much—probably more than we had talked in our entire lives. But then I realized that I have a truly close person and a friend I can trust with everything.

And from that moment, changes began in my relationship with my mom and in my life as a whole, which I will describe in detail in the continuation.